Chapter 13

Strange Bedfellows

Angel and his team shuffled into the opulent conference room located high in the Wolfram and Hart office building. The view of downtown L.A. was extraordinary. Angel also noted that the windows had a coating dark enough that he could stand in the patch of sunlight and only smolder. It was painful, true, but it so disconcerted the representatives of the law firm that he simply stood there enjoying it.

Gunn walked up next to him. "Nice view," he commented.

"I think I can see my office from here," Angel supplied.

"I meant you," Gunn responded, cocking an eyebrow. "You trying to dry clean that thing from the inside or something?"

"Not exactly," Angel replied. "Are they keeping their distance?"

"Yeah, they're on the other side of the conference room." Gunn was quick to catch onto Angel's tactics. "I don't think we have much time before this party begins, though."

"Fine. I had a dream last night …" Angel began.

"Is this planning or therapy?" Gunn wisecracked.

"Anyway, it became clear to me that if I try to rescue both Faith and Kate they're both going to die."

"So we split up?" Gunn nodded. He was going to suggest just that sort of approach himself. As much as he disliked Angel – and demons in general, truth be told – he respected him as a tactician. "Wes and I already worked it up."

"Really? Huh." Angel nodded. He was both impressed and irritated. He was impressed that they had come up with the same plan that he had. He was, however, irritated that they had come up with the same plan that he had.

"We gotta hang with you, though, for awhile. After we get sent after Faith, Wes and I will double back and get Kate. But we have to figure out where she's being held."

"She's being held here," Angel said confidently. "Probably in Lilah's office. Have you got a plan to get up there?"

"We just figured we'd ask nicely," Gunn replied. "By the way, you're starting to really get ripe." Gunn flicked away the smoke that was beginning to billow from Angel. Before anyone could say anything else, the door to the conference room opened.

Gunn and Angel turned to see Lilah, her assistant, and Mr. Gray enter. Lilah looked around confidently, taking in the scene with satisfaction. It was clear that she was enjoying this. Angel and his team affected bored expressions.

"Well, well, well," Lilah said, looking them over. "Isn't this cozy? I'd like to say that I've always looked forward to this moment, but since you're all still breathing that would be a lie, wouldn't it?" The brutality of the statement was in stark contrast to the saccharine sweetness of her tone of voice. She moved around to take a seat at the head of the table. "Please sit down," she gestured to the chairs surrounding her. "Oh, and for the comfort and safety of others, please, no smoking. That includes you, too, Angel." She smiled wickedly at her own humor.

All those gathered took seats. Once out of the sunlight, the amount of smoke being produced by Angel and his clothes diminished considerably. By unconscious consent, the law firm staff was arranged on one side of the table, while Angel and his team was on the other. Angel sat opposite Lilah at the other end.

"Now then," Lilah began officiously, "we have something you want. Let's just get that here on the table. Kate is fine. Well, reasonably fine. Let's just say that there's nothing she won't recover from. We'll be happy to let you have her, on one condition."

"Let me guess, you want us to get Faith back." Angel shrugged. "We were going to do that anyway."

"Yes, well, there's more to it than that." She gestured over to Mr. Gray seated at her left. "Our esteemed colleague here would like to make sure that whatever plans are in place for Faith, that they don't get executed." She paused a moment, smiling, and then pointed back at herself. "However, seeing as how Faith is still, technically, under contract to Wolfram and Hart, we'd like to get our employee back." She waited for a response and got none. "And, as an added bonus, we'd like to kill that little band of thieves who've been giving us so much trouble.

"So, here's the full meal deal. First, you go get Faith. Second, you bring one of our assault teams with you and help them shoot the sons-of-bitches who have your girl. Third, and most importantly, you turn Faith back over to us. That's the deal. And if you fail in any part of it, Kate becomes a skeleton in your personal closet – and I mean that literally.

"So, unless you'd like to have a really uncomfortable visit with those two cops we rescued you from, I'd suggest you do as we ask." Lilah folded her hands in front of her, smiling her most business like smile. Her eyes, however, sparkled with glee.

"What assurances do we have that even if we do what you ask you'll keep your end of the bargain?" Wesley maintained a business like tone, although his eyes shifted uncomfortably. These were cold-blooded killers he was dealing with, only cloaked in a veneer of civility. He had to keep that in mind at all times.

"Assurances?" she responded. "Well, we could do a contract in blood, if you like. That'll take awhile, though, what with all the sections and subsections and such. I wouldn't think that you'd want to waste that kind of time. Why don't we just shake on it?"

"I didn't think snakes could shake hands," he replied simply.

"Touché, my dear," she replied. "If you weren't so goody-two-shoes, you might actually be amusing for an hour or two." Her predatory glance suggested something other than conversation. "Looks like you're just going to have to trust us. Do we have a deal?"

"We don't trust any of you," Angel replied before Wes could. "But I don't see that we have any other choice in the matter. Of course, since we have no idea where they are, I can't see how this will end well for any of us." Angel smiled back at her. He was calling their cards. The team needed to see what they knew, get some sort of clue to go on, in order to figure out how to proceed.

It was Mr. Gray that replied. "I scanned your companion's memories," he stated simply, with no emotion of even conception of the type of violation this would be viewed as. She was to him, simply, a tool. "Before we arrived at your residence, she was reviewing other police activity from that evening. It seems that she was particularly intrigued by the theft of a large diesel generator. In her mind, she saw a connection between it and the need to operate medical equipment.

"We have, of course, already learned about the theft of the medical equipment from the Jackson Street Clinic. To what end we have not yet been able to determine." Wesley studiously avoided looking at anyone. He had taken the chart from the clinic when they had left in order to prevent anyone else from deducing the point of the experiment. It looked as though his ploy had worked.

"It seems to us," Lilah continued, picking up the thread, "that if we find the generator, we find the hideout … and Faith."

"That's all well and good," Wesley replied. "However, the presumed connection between the two is tenuous, at best."

"Kate didn't think so," Lilah replied. "I think you should maybe trust her on this. After all, it's her life on the line. Besides, what else have you got to go on?"

"But how do we expect to find it?" he countered. "The dot-com boom has resulted in every office building between here and Pasadena having backup generators."

Lilah looked over at one of the other firm representatives, held his gaze for a moment to consider, and then nodded. The man nodded back to her and then turned to address the rest of the room. "We know where it was stolen from, and how it was transported. Given those two things, we have some … friends, let's just say … who can track it down once night falls. That whole operation is getting in place right now. It should be able to pinpoint the location a couple of hours past dusk."

"There, are you satisfied?" Lilah asked. She didn't wait for a response. "In the meantime, I suggest you eat, and change, and get ready for the evenings' festivities."

"We're free to go, just like that?" Angel inquired.

Lilah cocked his head at him. "Don't be silly," she said, smirking at his naiveté. "You'll stay right here where we can keep an eye on you. I assure you, our facilities are first rate."

* * *

"Not exactly a first rate facility," Faith commented to the soldier next to her. She contemplated the crude shower room that had been made. They had simply put a canvas curtain around an area that featured a faucet head in the wall. Luxury had been bought by running a hose from the faucet and over a piece of metal whose function was anyone's guess. The hose hung down to head height, and thus the space could be termed a 'shower facility.' She had no doubt that it would feature one temperature – cold.

She looked it over for a moment, and then back at the man escorting her. He was like all the rest of them around. They all dressed in matching black outfits. They had uniformly cut hair. They all had the same manner of speak and action. They were perfect little tin soldiers, and for the hundredth time Faith considering snapping one in half. As soon as the thought entered her mind, though, it was dismissed. These were her friends, after all.

The dismissal didn't come from inside her, though. It was impressed upon her. But it was firm, and she didn't have the strength to fight it. What did it matter, anyway? She liked the idea of having friends. She didn't have many. She should keep these. Besides, there were plenty of people she could snap in half if she so chose. Other people. Not her friends.

She shook her head as the thoughts continued to course through her brain. She couldn't really tell where they came from, only that it was easier to trust them. She had no problem doing that. She could just trust those thoughts. For now.

She waited a moment longer for him to leave. Seeing as he didn't move, she shrugged. "Tell me one thing," she said huskily. "Are you guarding me, or do you just like to watch?" He said nothing.

Seeing that she wasn't going to provoke a reaction, she turned away from him and quickly stripped, leaving her prison clothes in a pile on the floor. She had been subjected to far worse indignities than this during her time 'inside'. She simply buried her pride and embarrassment deep inside herself and went to the faucet. An ice cold cascade began falling from the hose.

Hanging on the faucet was bucket containing a sponge and a bar of soap. She retrieved them and placed herself under the cascade of water. Shaking her head to flip her hair back, she turned to see if her guardian was enjoying himself. He wasn't there, though. It would never have occurred to her that his only job was to make sure she didn't remove the amulet.

Seeing as how she was now alone, she set herself more diligently to the task at hand. She had spent what felt like years in a fevered sweat, the effect, so she was told, of the demons' toxins. She wasn't sure, but then again she didn't have to be. She just had to trust her friends, the voice in her head whispered. Shrugging away any doubts, she single-mindedly began washing the stink away. The cold water felt good against her. Once she had overcome the breathless shock of it, she felt the tingle in her skin. As she scrubbed she felt more and more invigorated.

It also was becoming increasingly clear that she was free. She was out of the stinking hell-hole of her life. If she could find a way to get a fresh start, she thought she might be able to do something with her life. She wasn't sure what, yet.

Sunnydale was out of the question. That much was fixed. She couldn't show her face there even if she'd wanted to. And she didn't want to. Who'd care to see her? No one, that's who. There was nothing for her there.

Los Angeles was probably out, as well. If she stayed, Angel would track her down and put her back in prison. For a moment she wondered why that would be bad. This was all about taking responsibility for yourself; for paying back your debt to society. She knew that was a good thing. It was something she'd wanted to do. Why didn't she want that any longer?

Again, the thoughts began to invade from outside her. They carried deeper into her brain with every beat of her heart. She was special. She was a Slayer. She was much too special to waste away in prison. She nodded at that. She was special. Believing that was so easy; going back to prison would be so hard.

Besides, she realized. She could just hang with the boys who'd rescued her. They'd be going places. They'd be doing things. Faith was pretty sure that she could be a match for any of them. She could keep up.

The more she thought about it, the more content she became. It was good plan. And staying here would be easy. Escaping would be hard. Being on her own would be hard. But staying here, trusting her new friends – that would be easy.

 Besides, she thought to herself with a giggle, they're kinda cute. And it has been a long time since I've had a big, strong man. No thoughts invaded from the outside at that. The amulet hadn't been taught to respond to that circumstance yet. Had the circle anticipated the kind of trouble Faith could wreak with the opposite sex, it would've been the very first thing they'd counter-programmed.

Her shower finished, she turned the faucet off and returned the sponge and soap to the bucket. She stuck her head outside and saw no one there. On a chair next to the canvas was a stack of clothing. From the look of it, it was the same things the other soldiers were wearing. On top was a rolled up towel.

Faith retrieved the towel, dried herself, and then put on the clothing they had provided. They hadn't included the proper underthings, but she had no issue with skipping those. The clothes were new, apparently purchased during some supply run. She'd have to see if she could get invited on the next one.

The black pants and tank top fit well enough to cause little complaint. The boots were an even better fit. There was a jacket and a turtleneck with them as well, but in the L.A. heat she didn't think she'd need them. She figured she'd use them if and when she went on any missions.

She paused for a moment as that thought struck her. How did she know there were going to be missions? She shook her head, searching her memory. Her first impulse was that one of the team members had told her, but she couldn't place who or when. She considered some other possibilities, but rejected them as well. It was truly beginning to bother her when she heard a throat clear behind her.

She turned around and smiled at the soldier standing there. He was attempting to smile at her, but his face was betraying a unique combination of embarrassment and arousal. Faith realized how she must look in the outfit, especially considering the missing pieces. A tight black tank top and no bra – Faith knew for a fact that she looked awesome. She smiled back at him seductively.

"What can I do for you, …" she motioned for him to supply his name.

"Johnson," he supplied.

"Ooh, good name," she said, the innuendo obvious.

"I just came to see if you were done and if you needed anything else."

She arched an eyebrow. "Oh yes, there's definitely something else I need." She crooked a finger at him, and Michael Johnson followed.

* * *

"Is there anything else you need?" Sheffield inquired of the Doctor.

"No," he replied. "I think we have everything we need." The Doctor examined his well manicured nails with an air of boredom. He was not happy to be here, working with these 'brutish' men. But the work of the Ring was more important than his personal comforts and conveniences. That didn't mean he had to make friends with them.

"When then?" Sheffield asked. Sheffield felt no particular need to be cordial to the man. He clearly didn't respect the soldiers. Sheffield suffered the man because he had orders to – he wasn't about to do anything more.

"Tonight. Midnight." The Doctor replied absently. "We will prep her then, kill her by 12:30, and then revive her several minutes later."

"And that will be enough to call a new Slayer?" Sheffield asked, wanting to make sure nothing had been overlooked.

"Not that it is any of your concern, but yes, it will be enough."

"And the Ring is confident that they can get to her first?"

"Of course," the Doctor looked up from beneath his brows, evaluating whether or not the Major deserved any answers. He sighed, deciding that, for now, his cooperation was important, and that more information would be more help than hurt. "We have deeply infiltrated the Watchers who monitor the Slayers. We will know when they know. We will have her when they do."

"And what of this one?" Sheffield asked, jerking his thumb in the direction of Faith's quarters.

"We will bring her with us to England. There, she will be the first among our new army. She will teach the others to fight; she will teach them what it means to be a Slayer." The light of fanaticism lit the Doctor's eyes.

"Why don't we just pull out now and do this operation in England?" Sheffield was all for risk minimization. He knew he was being hunted, and he saw no good reason not to institute an orderly withdrawal.

"There's too much that could go wrong. We'd rather start the process now, and get the next Slayer in hand before we attempt to extract Faith." The response was cautious.

Too cautious, thought Sheffield. They're afraid they can't control her, he reasoned. They want to get someone younger on their hands – someone more pliable. And once they have that, if Faith gets to be too much they can simply get rid of her. His eyes did not betray his appreciation for the ruthlessness of the plan. "So the line will pass to this next Slayer – and you'll do the same operation on her to get the next one."

"Yes," hissed the Doctor excitedly. "And then the next, and the next, and the next. We will build an army – a race – of Slayers. All loyal to us, and guided by the Ring of Arinoth." The vision of the power that would bring danced in his eyes. It would be the opportunity to eradicate all of the demons from this planet. And with amulets to control all the slayers, they could be relied on to get rid of any humans who might get in the Ring's way, as well. With a Slayer army, the Ring of Arinoth could rule the Earth.

"So Faith's to be the mother of this new race, huh?" Sheffield nodded. He finally understood why they called it 'Project Eve.'